


The Phoenix And The Turtle

by kuonji



Category: due South
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Some guy did a poem that I liked," he blurted. He hadn't been sure he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to share the experience he'd had, but he couldn't bear to ruin it if he couldn't describe it right.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phoenix And The Turtle

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/40067.html>

"How was the poetry reading?"

"It was really great. Monique was amazing."

"I wish I'd been there."

"Yeah. Hey, did the VP give you trouble again at the council meeting?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I woulda busted his head if he had," he asserted, making his voice tough like Steve McQueen in that movie with the lady with the big blonde curls.

"I know." Stella patted his cheek in a 'you silly men' sort of way. "You said hi to Monique and Doris for me, right?"

"Uh-huh."

He put his nose in Stella's hair and took in the light fragrance of her shampoo. Stella didn't wear perfume, but she had a bold, sexy, salty-spice scent of her own that he could never get enough of. He ran his hand over her neck, across her shoulder, and down her arm, not light and teasing, but purposeful. His fingers tugged slightly as they skipped from cotton to bare skin. Stella giggled, jerking back. Then she smacked his hand. "Stop it. I'm going to fall off."

"You know I won't let you," he said. He enclosed her lithe body with both arms and held a little tighter. He'd never, ever, let her fall. Ray had grown up and filled out since junior high. Even lying on their sides, the couch was narrow. He was now taller than Stella, and he'd started running track. Kids didn't tease Stella so much anymore for going out with a loser like 'Stanley'.

"Glad I'm safe with you," Stella replied, and surprisingly, she'd allowed herself to relax enough that there wasn't any irony in there at all. She kissed his collarbone, but it wasn't a start to anything, just a sign of affection.

Stella's mother was out running errands and her sister wouldn't be back for another hour. Even a year ago, they would've spent the alone time necking, but it seemed that they'd gotten comfortable with simply being in contact. Ray liked that. It was like how he thought of them -- just fitting together. Belonging together.

"Some guy did a poem that I liked," he blurted. He hadn't been sure he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to share the experience he'd had, but he couldn't bear to ruin it if he couldn't describe it right.

"Oh? What was it about?"

"It was about... love." God, that sounded lame. He struggled to put words to how the poem had made him feel. He wasn't good with expressing himself like that, and Stella knew it. She stayed silent and stroked his hair, waiting. "It was like, like the _perfect_ love. And it was between a phoenix and a turtle."

"A phoenix and... a turtle?" Stella's voice was incredulous, but it was also a little hushed. Maybe he had been able to convey, just a little, the incredible, thrumming, glowing power of the words.

He pictured it in his head, the tall, slightly overweight sophomore in his black jeans and black T-shirt. " _He's in my drama class_ ," Stella's friend Monique had leaned over to whisper in his ear. " _He's really good._ " He tried to remember some of those moving, cadenced lines, seeing the way the guy had closed his palms together, then lifted triumphant fists, and touched shaking fingers to his forehead. He was better at remembering if he could see the visual counterpoint and accent to the words.

"Yeah, I mean, they've gotta be so different, right? And maybe it's weird, but they loved each other so much. Something about... the turtle and his queen. Um, yeah, 'and no space was seen between the turtle and his queen'. Like that. They were part of one another. They owned each other. They even died together, 'in--', um. Dammit. Uh, uh, 'in mutual flame', that's it. They died together, and then all the birds came in from all over the place to mourn for them and pray and cry because they'd been so _perfect_."

Ray found that he was breathing a little faster, and he was staring into Stella's blue eyes, trying _so_ hard to explain all the intensity he'd felt when he'd heard those funny old words, wishing he could recreate them. Stella stared back, her eyes wide. Her blonde lashes, fine gold filaments tipped with bronze, quivered just slightly. Then she blinked and let out a breath. "It sounds beautiful, Ray."

"Yeah."

"I wish I'd been there."

"Yeah."

She kissed him then, slow and soft, and she pressed tight against him. Nothing between them but love.

***

"I waited half an hour at that table for you!"

"You could have eaten without me. I wouldn't have minded."

"I looked ridiculous! Why do you always do that to me?"

"I _told_ you I might not be able to make it. You never listen to me, Ray."

"Stella, it's our _anniversary_. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Ray. Who celebrates the anniversary of their first date after they're already married?"

"What're you saying. You saying I'm some kind of dope?"

"No, of course not. You're romantic. That's great. But you know what? If we want to have any more nice anniversaries, we need to keep our jobs."

"I can support us. If you'd just stop buying those frou-frou things, I could support us both now. You don't even have to work anymore."

"Oh, I see. Now it comes out."

"Stella--"

"You want me to stay home, is that it? Be your little housewife? How long have you been keeping that from me, huh?"

"No. Stella, that's not--"

"You have some Big Man fantasies, _Stanley_?"

"I..."

"You always said you didn't mind, and I _believed_ you. I'm such an idiot."

"I did mean it. I mean, I do. I just don't think we need all that... _stuff_ to be happy."

"Maybe you don't. But some of us have higher standards."

"So I'm white trash, right? You used to say, I was all you ever needed. What happened to that, Stella?"

"No. No! You are not going to make me feel _guilty_ for wanting a better life for us both. Do you honestly want to move back to that rundown hole we used to live in?"

"We were okay there."

" _You_ were okay there. You never thought about what _I_ wanted, did you? You never try to have something better."

"I got you, didn't I?"

"Oh, Ray. That... That can't be your only goal in life."

"Wanting you is ridiculous?"

"God, I can't talk to you. I need to get some air."

"Stella! Wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you."

"Ray..."

"I just want us to be happy. I just... Stella."

"I love you, too, Ray. Why can't we be like we used to be?"

"We're not who we were, Stell. C'mon, haven't you thought about that? We don't have to be like we were."

"We aren't. We're grown up."

"No, no. That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I want us to be a family. A real family."

"What do you-- Oh, no. Not this again."

"Why the hell _not_?"

"No! How many times have I said--"

"Lots of couples do it. Work and have kids at the same time."

"Other people have steady hours. And relatives to help out. How can we possibly have kids? We're both gone for most of the day. You're out on nights half the time. Who would take care of them?"

"If you don't want to do that, I... I mean, I could stay home. I could... I'd be okay with that."

"Ray, don't be ridiculous. You never think things through."

"I mean it. I could do it!"

"And what would we feed them? Macaroni and cheese? You can't quit your job."

"Why not? You're making more than I am. You said so yourself."

"Don't you dare throw my words in my face like that."

"I could _do_ it."

"Oh, please. You can barely take care of yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have to remind you to get a haircut, get your teeth checked..."

"That's not fair."

"You can't even remember to clean the turtle's aquarium every week. Any kid you have would starve to death or die from negligence!"

"..."

"Ray. Ray, wait, I'm-- Ray! _Ray_!"

***

When Ray got home, Stella was on the couch waiting. She stood up as soon as he entered, and her hurt eyes made him feel better but also a bit guilty. "Ray," she said. "I didn't mean it. You'd be a great father."

He took her hands, feeling pathetic in how grateful he was at her presence. He pulled slightly, positioned his hands, and she came into his dancer's embrace. They swayed together for a while. "You'd be a great mom, too."

She sighed. "We're just not ready, Ray. You haven't even made detective yet. I mean, you still want that, don't you?"

He had to quell a snappish response, _Yeah, make it all my fault again..._ "Yeah. I do. I want to be a detective. And you just got your promotion. I get that. So where does that leave us?"

She put her head on his shoulder. "Maybe we can talk about it some more later, when things are more stable."

He's known her almost all his life. He could tell when she was avoiding something. He laid his own head against hers, because he didn't quite have the courage to look at her.

"Stella, don't you-- Don't you _want_ to have kids with me? A family? Don't you want that?"

She didn't have an answer for him, which was an answer all on its own.

***

Ray stared gloomily at his broccoli. Dinner with the Mountie. That was about the extent of his social life nowadays. At least it was better than hanging out at home with the turtle. Seeing Stella in court today had been lethal.

"Fraser. You ever heard of a poem, a love poem between a phoenix and a turtle?"

"Why, yes, Ray." Ray sat up straight, surprised at the quick response. He hadn't expected Fraser to know it, especially with such an obscure reference. But yeah, okay, probably not a lot of poetry about mythical birds who went out with reptiles, right?

"It's one of William Shakespeare's more abstruse pieces," Fraser continued. He sounded pleased to be consulted. "It's very much discussed as there are differing interpretations of it. Some sustain that the phoenix and the dove are purely metaphorical, while others believe the pair is meant to represent particular--"

"Wait, the phoenix and the-- No, no. You got the wrong poem. The one I'm thinking about is about a phoenix and a _turtle_ getting together."

"Ah, I see the confusion. The 'turtle' in this poem refers to the turtle dove. It's considered a symbol of faithful devotion, just like the phoenix is a symbol of beauty and truth. Paired together, you see, they are a metaphor for the concept of ideal love, and the great tragedy is that such ideal love is no longer existent. It is, as the poem says -- dead. At least, that's one common reading of the poem."

Ray was shaking his head. "Are you sure?" Shakespeare? He would've remembered if it'd been by Shakespeare, right? Hell, even he would've recognized the name of the Bard at seventeen, right?

Instead of answering, Fraser stared in concentration at the tabletop for a moment. Then he looked up, cleared his throat, and recited:

  
"Here the anthem doth commence:  
Love and constancy is dead;  
Phoenix and the turtle fled  
In a mutual flame from hence.

"So they lov'd, as love in twain  
Had the essence but in one;  
Two distincts, division none:  
Number there in love was slain.

"Hearts remote, yet not asunder;  
Distance, and no space was seen  
'Twixt the turtle and his queen;  
But in them it were a wonder.

"So between them love did shine,  
That the turtle saw his right  
Flaming in the phoenix' sight:  
Either was the other's mine."

  
He stopped and looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid that's all I remember." Fraser allowed a brief silence, then looked at him earnestly. "Was that the poem you were thinking of?"

Ray shivered. "Y-Yeah." It was exactly right. Those musical words still made his heart beat faster. Even if he couldn't understand -- much less remember -- a lot of the individual lines, he could feel the passion and beauty and truth in them. It was the same poem. There was no doubt about that. He could see that kid again, his face reflecting joy and finally agonizing sadness. He really had been good. Had he gone on to become an actor? What was his name? Maybe Ray could look up Monique's number and ask her. Was she still in Los Angeles, or had she moved again?

All the mundane speculation about old schoolmates in the world was finally not enough to squash the horrible feeling that was burgeoning in him like a tidal wave.

He'd been wrong.

In fact, he'd been wrong all along. Couldn't _be_ more wrong.

"I thought it was about this impossible love between a beautiful bird and a lowly turtle. I-- I thought it was about how it should never have worked out, but they loved each other so damn much that when they die, everyone remembers how perfect they were for each other. Geez, I had it all wrong." He tried to smile like it was just some silly mistake, just some silly poem he'd heard somewhere.

The phoenix's mate was the _turtle dove_. Of course. Two birds of a feather. Not some scaly earthbound reptile.

"On the contrary, Ray."

"Huh?" He looked up. Fraser was watching him, looking somewhat anxious and confused.

"Poetry is open to interpretation, and certainly--"

"Are you kidding me?" Suddenly incensed, he slammed his fork down. "I got a _dove_ and a damn _turtle_ mixed up. The poem was about two perfect things, and I thought it was some Romeo and Juliet story! How could that in any way be a correct 'interpretation'? You don't have to make the dumbass feel better, all right? I got C's in English all through high school." It felt good to yell, to spew anger -- even as he knew that Fraser didn't deserve any of it.

Fraser considered him, silent for a moment, until Ray felt ashamed by his outburst. But Fraser hadn't been trying to make Ray feel guilty. Ray could sense that. He'd just been thinking about what to say. He was the cool head, he had his feet on his ground. He set 'em up, Ray knocked 'em down... Wasn't that the way it should go?

Licking his lips, Fraser finally ventured to say, "Even at the time it was published, the meaning behind this poem was not definite."

He might not be a whiz at words, but his detective mind worked just fine. He could spot inconsistencies and illogic, easy. "It's simple vocabulary, Fraser. I mean, everyone who read it then would've known what he meant, right? Even if they thought the poem might be talking about other things, no one would've thought... what I did."

"Well..." Fraser rubbed an eyebrow as if to gain time, and instead of being mad, Ray felt a little better. Fraser wasn't giving him platitudes here.

"It's all right, Fraser." He waved a hand. "It's just some words some dead guy wrote."

Fraser actually looked offended. "William Shakespeare is considered to be one of the fathers of modern English, Ray. He penned over thirty of the greatest--"

Ray waved a hand in the air. He didn't have the energy for a pissy Mountie right now. "Sorry. I don't mean anything I say right now." He slumped back in his seat and poked at his broccoli again.

Fraser frowned. Then he did that looking-into-space thing again, and said,

 

"He that is thy friend indeed,  
He will help thee in thy need:  
If thou sorrow, he will weep;  
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;  
Thus of every grief in heart  
He with thee doth bear a part.  
These are certain signs to know  
Faithful friend from flattering foe."

 

"Shakespeare wrote that?" Ray guessed.

"The closing lines of 'The Passionate Pilgrim'," was the prompt reply.

"It's, um." Ray didn't know much about poetry, but he had an instinct for tone. "It's a lot more down-to-earth than that other one, huh? Feels real."

"Yes, Ray. Excellent analysis."

Ray shrugged away from that gently radiant smile. It felt good, though. Fraser seemed to have this knack for patting him on the head without being condescending about it.

"Ray."

"Yeah?"

"Your interpretation of the first poem is rather... appealing. In its unorthodox way. It does lend a certain drama to the text that never occurred to me before."

Ray raised his eyebrows. Fraser was rubbing at one of his own. "You think so?"

"I rather like it, Ray, to tell the truth. It's powerful and honest. Rather like yourself."

That flustered him a bit, especially the way Fraser delivered it, so completely straight-faced like he always did. "Yeah, well, let's not let Willy find out. I don't need to be haunted by a dead poet."

He enjoyed the little laugh that provoked. He played with his napkin a bit before asking, "Faithful friend, huh?"

"Well, yes. I thought you knew that already, Ray."

"Yeah. I did. Hey, let me know when you're sad and I'll get all ready to have a cry with you."

He said it with a joking look, but Fraser turned a little pink and said, "Yes, Ray."

And from the tingly, warm way that made him feel, Ray thought he probably hadn't been joking after all.

  
END.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Full text and discussion of William Shakespeare's "The Phoenix And The Turtle" may be found [HERE](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Phoenix_and_the_Turtle).
> 
> A/N: Embarrassing but true: Ray's reaction to and interpretation of the poem?  Mine.  Completely mine.  But hey, fic came out of it, so I can't complain.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:    
>      [Dreams](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/2460.html) (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji    
>      [Radio Silence](http://love-jackianto.livejournal.com/124525.html) (Due South), by love_jackianto


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